


Auction Odds

by jotc



Category: Eureka
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotc/pseuds/jotc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tesla High school runs a charity auction in which parents volunteer their services. When Nathan Stark wins Jack Carter, Jack just wants to make it through the weekend without killing him. But an improbable streak of near disasters leave Jack wondering if something or someone is trying to kill hm, instead. Edit: Adapted from a prompt by neosildrake on the plot bunny thread of marshal_science lj. (I forgot to credit the prompt when I first posted.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: Chapter 3 contains references to deceased animals (but no animals are harmed in the story).

Jack looked out nervously at the crowd. Half the town must be packed into Tesla High's auditorium. He hadn't expected such a crowd when he volunteered.

His daughter Zoe had talked him into signing up for Tesla High School's "parent auction." Audience members bid on the volunteers. The highest bidder could order their prize to do any safe, non-illegal task. Of course, no one could really force the auctionees to do anything, but if a person wouldn't obey, the money bid was forfeit.

Jack hadn't been too thrilled at giving up his weekend, but it was for a good cause, and it meant a lot to Zoe. Jack figured he could give up his weekend and maybe a little dignity in order to help his daughter fit in. But that was before he'd listened to the auctioneer at work. In his experience, auctions of this sort were accompanied by a lot of teasing and joking and a fair bit of flirting. But this was Eureka, where everything was a competition and everyone had a degree.

Each parent had filled a card with what they had to offer their bidders. Jack had listed some ordinary chores. But while Jack offered to mow the lawn, Dr. Evans offered to "Revitalize your lawn with a revolutionary new growth formula! Your grass will reach a height of two and three eights inches, and then stop, remaining lush and green all summer with no mowing or pesticides required!" Jack had listed "help with house painting," but Dr. Evans offered the chance to "get your whole house painted with a brand new insulating paint! It repels water, hail, snow, bird droppings, and most common dust particles." Jack had offered to walk dogs. Dr. Monroe offered to "train your pet using state-of-the-art neural shaping, teaching all common commands, eliminating indoor accidents, and improving your bond with your beloved pet." Dr. Monroe had brought her toy poodle, which obediently played dead, walked on her hind legs, and barked on command. And so it went for every little thing on his list.

Jack patted the poodle on his way to the stage. He waved a little nervously at the crowd, and the auctioneer started her spiel.

"Sheriff Jack Carter, up for bid. One of Eureka's best known citizens, known for his investigative skills!" She rapidly read off his humble list of chores, then began improvising. "Here's a chance to have Eureka's law enforcement at your disposal. Known for his stellar detective abilities--"

"Sorry, my law enforcement services are not for hire," he called out, smiling. He wasn't offended, but he wanted to head that off at the pass. He served the public. He didn't mind looking a little foolish on a personal level, but he wasn't going to have his job turned into a joke.

The auctioneer glared at him. "Jack Carter," she said, emphasizing his first name. "what am I bid for Jack Carter?"

The crowd sat silent for a minute. 'Come on,' Jack thought hopefully. Of course this was just a dumb game for charity, but it still stung a little to see the lack of enthusiasm.  
"Thirty dollars." The bid came from a parent he didn't recognize. Jack winced. Practically everyone on the block had gotten opening bids of fifty or more. The auctioneer called his name a few more times, adding "Get him for the bargain price of just thirty-five, do I have thirty-five?"

Dead silence. He was a good sheriff, he reminded himself. He had a lot to offer.  
"One hundred," Allison Blake called. She sounded awkward and uncertain. Jack winced even harder. He appreciated that she wanted to be a good friend, but the whole town knew that she'd turned him down on the dating front. He didn't want her pity, and he wanted even less to spend the weekend in her company.

"One hundred ten," Jo called out. Jack sighed with relief. Jo had already won another auction, so she was being generous to step in on his behalf. Of course, she'd work him hard and tease him mercilessly, but that was better than the alternative.

Allison showed no signs of bidding again, nor did the first bidder. Jack figured this was it. One hundred ten was pretty poor wages for an entire weekend, but he'd just remember not to ever, ever do this again.

"One hundred ten dollars and ten cents," Nathan Stark said firmly and clearly. Jack heard a wave of stifled giggles break out.

"You gotta be kidding me," Jack groaned. "Come on people, don't leave me to Stark's tender mercies." The crowd began to snicker more audibly. Allison had recently turned Stark down too, but mutual rejection hadn't brought them any closer.

Giggling, Jo bid one hundred and twenty. Stark smirked and bid one thirty.

"Keep going Jo, you gotta rescue me." She shook her head, eyes twinkling.

"Sorry, Carter, I tried."

"Try harder!"

"One hundred fifty," Allison called out.

"One sixty," Stark said.

Carter said, "Come on people, don't let me down! Not all problems require brains, you know. What do you want, someone who will experiment on your prized possessions with technology that isn't ready for market, or someone who will actually do stuff you actually need done?"

Two more parents bid.

"Two hundred," Stark called out. "You're very persuasive, Carter."  
People were openly laughing now, and Jack decided milk it. "Remember people, time is money. Every hour not spent shampooing your carpet is another hour you can spend bartering your own services with the other scientists in town. Do you want to get locked into a specific service you might not need, or do you want free time to spend as you please?"  
From there, the bids kept coming. Better yet, the light-hearted humor was what Jack had expected in the first place.

Stark fell silent when the bidding hit four hundred eighty. Only three others had gone for more. The auctioneer worked the crowd for a bit, but when no one else spoke, she started wrapping up: "Going going--"

"One thousand," Stark said.

That drew oohs and aahs. Jack winced. No one was going to top that.

"Going, going, gone for one thousand to Dr. Nathan Stark. Congratulations, Dr. Stark!"

"I have buyer's remorse all ready, can I get a refund?" Stark yelled, grinning.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm a bargain at twice the price," he called back.

"Just show up at seven A.M. sharp with a cup of coffee."

"Don't you have a coffee maker?"

"Yes, but I won't be using it. Bright and early, Carter, bright and early!"

The auctioneer walked him off stage, and Jack sat down to watch the rest of the bidding. He realized with astonishment that he'd drawn the highest bid. If only he could make it through the weekend without killing Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

Stark was waiting for him outside, dressed in his usual suit and tie. 'Doesn't this guy ever dress for comfort?' Jack wondered.

"You're late," Stark said. He looked smug.

"No I'm not," Jack said. "My watch says 6:58."

"My watch is linked to the U.S. atomic clock, synced every tenth of a second, and I have 7:02. You're late."

"And by the way, good morning to you too. I see you're ready for the weekend."

"Got work to do. Come on."

Jack handed him the coffee. Stark sipped it appreciatively, nodded at Jack, then walked to his BMW.

"I'm at your disposal, how about I drive you in?"

"Nice try, Carter, but you're here to do the things I don't want to do. Driving my car is not one of them."

Carter sighed and took his place in the passenger seat. Stark drove efficiently, but always precisely within the speed limit. The guy managed to be type A even when it came to lane changes, but he must want to avoid arguments over whether Carter could give him a ticket while riding shotgun.

They were on the Da Vinci bridge when the car lurched and started to rattle. Blown tire, Jack thought. Stark handled it well, removing his foot from the gas but not braking. But then Jack heard an audible bang, and the car jerked hard toward the center line. This put them in the path of a fast-moving van. Stark steered hard back toward his lane, but overshot and brushed against the guard rail.

The guard rail gave way. The absurdity of it shot through Jack's mind--that guard rail ought to hold up against runaway semis. Nathan's little BMW shouldn't even make a dent, especially when he'd been holding to the speed limit. Jack envisioned them bursting through and plummeting over the edge into the cold water below.

But Nathan steered the car back on track, and began gently braking. "Blown tire," he said shortly. He nursed the car to the end of the bridge, then rolled to a stop on the shoulder. "Two of them, actually. This is bullshit, those tires are new."

"Nice driving," Jack said. His voice was shaking a little, and he hated it. "I'm more concerned about the guard rail, though. It shouldn't give out like that. I need to call it in."

The rattling scrape of metal kicked back to one of his life's worst memories. When he was just seventeen, he'd tried to teach his girlfriend how to drive. Everything went great up until the point when it didn't. Jack had gotten off with relatively minor injuries, but his girlfriend had died that night.

Jack called Jo, who told him she'd handle it. Nathan checked the other tires, looking disgusted. "They're rated for for eighty thousand miles," he said disgustedly, as though more upset at not getting his money's worth on the tires than on their scrape with death.

"No one's hurt, so it's all fine," Jack said. His stomach churned. "Do you have flares?"  
"Yes, but why? You already called it in."

"If anyone else were to hit that gap in the guard rail, they'd go right over."

"Yeah, but how likely is that?"

"I don't care how likely it is, I'm closing the lane!" Jack snapped. Nathan looked  
startled, but he dug the flares out of his trunk without further protest. "Wait by the vehicle," Jack told him. Jack set the flares, then stood next to the guard rail, trying for deep breaths to calm his stomach.

"Get out of the road, genius," Stark called.

Good point. He walked back toward the car. He was doing okay until he inhaled a little too much of the burnt-rubber stink. He swallowed hard, leaned on the car, and concentrated on not puking.

As much as he and Stark butted heads, neither tended to kick the other while they were down. "You okay?" Stark asked sincerely.

"Fine. Just a little wired."

"Okay. Fargo's sending a company car out." Stark still looked concerned. Jack wished he'd stop staring.

"Great. Who had the contract for the guard rails?"

"Carter, relax. No one's hurt. Jo can pull the records later today."

"Yeah, sure. It's just equipment failure here in Eureka usually has some story behind it."

Stark shrugged. "Well, someone did shoddy work, but that can wait. Today, you're all mine."

"Oh joy, thanks for reminding me."

"Carter, seriously, sit down. There's nothing you can do right now, so we might as well relax."

They waited in Stark's car until the car Fargo sent arrived. Jack concentrated on calming down. Stark worked on his PDA and left Jack alone, much to his relief. By the time they made it in to Global, he'd managed to calm down. After all, one thing his job as a marshal taught him was how to handle post-adrenalin highs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter was inspired by actual experiences of a college friend of mine. Sorry if it's too morbid for anyone; but I couldn't resist!)

Once inside Global, Stark walked Jack to a room full of biohazard suits. "Much as I'd love to personally boss you around all day, I don't have time. So I'll be letting you off easy. First off, you get to clean a couple of Taggart's freezers."

"What's in Taggart's freezers?" Jack asked apprehensively.

Stark grinned. "Parts. Animal parts. Don't worry; we didn't kill them. Mostly they're dead zoo animals that get shipped to us posthumously. Taggart's in charge of them, but a variety of labs use tissue and other things for various experiments. Taggart says he's running low on space, and everything in these three units can go. You'll need to bring the parts to the cremation unit for proper disposal."

"Great," Jack grumbled.

Stark set him up with ice chests to keep the parts cold until he got them to the incinerator, a hair dryer to speed up melting the ice, trays to catch the water, a bucket and mop for any water that slopped out, and a sterilizing solution to clean everything once he was finished.

"Don't forget to sterilize the mop," Stark said. "And of course, once you're done, you'll need to douse the suit and then go to decontamination yourself."

"I'm not going to catch some horrible rare disease, am I?" Jack asked.

"Not if you keep your suit intact. Relax, we make the interns do this every year, and we've never lost one of them yet."

Stark left him in a medium-sized room with nothing but freezers. Jack opened up the first to find a zebra head staring back at him. The head had been wrapped in multiple layers of plastic, but he could still clearly make out an accusing eye.

"Don't look at me, it's not my fault," he muttered.

"You realize they can't hear you." Jack looked up. Stark's voice had come from a monitor in one corner. He sat relaxed at his desk, looking smug as he sipped his Vinspresso and nibbled a muffin.

"You're going to watch?" he asked incredulously.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. So please, feel free to converse with the dead animals, Jack. Their conversation is no doubt on your level."

Jack shut up and started working. He loaded up the zebra head. Then, thankfully, he moved on to tightly wrapped petri dishes whose contents he could not make out. Then several fish, an entire shelf full of beetles, and finally a dead raccoon. All of them were tightly wrapped. With the biohazard suit's air filtration system, Jack couldn't make out any smell. Although disturbing, the work wasn't actually difficult.

He wheeled the parts down for disposal. The two young women on duty started snickering as soon as they saw him coming. Jack sighed ruefully and tolerated their staring with his usual good nature.

Jack didn't really freak out until he got to the monkey. He opened up the second freezer, and there it was, staring back at him. Like the others, it was wrapped in plastic, but still clearly visible.

"Did you know there's an entire monkey in here?" he demanded.

"Just remember, we didn't kill him," Stark's voice came back. Jack had expected more teasing, but Stark actually sounded wistful and a little sad.

"Yeah, right, dead zoo monkey. Not our fault. Okay, loading the dead monkey into the ice chest. Crap."

"What?"

"It doesn't fit. Yeah, I know he's already dead, but I still don't want to break his arm!"

"Don't try to force it, Carter. I'll have janitorial send down a bigger chest."

"Okay. Putting the dead monkey back in the freezer. Right. I'm sure I'll regret asking, but why exactly do we have a monkey?"

"Bimmy died from heart disease. A rich businessman brought him in the country illegally. A neighbor noticed and tipped off law enforcement, but he was already close to death. We used his tissue samples to investigate new drug therapies, but we have all we need. Time to lay his remains to rest."

Jack wasn't sure whether knowing the story made looking at the monkey more creepy, or less. He carefully set the monkey back in the freezer to wait for the larger chest.

"Sorry, buddy," he mumbled. "It's a rough world."

Jack started on the third freezer and tried to put the monkey out of his mind. Fargo showed up with the freezer, took mercy on Jack, and wheeled Binbao away.

"How come you're not wearing a suit?" he asked.

"Um, well, um, the freezer will protect me." But Fargo was smirking while he said it. Jack rolled his eyes and started on the third freezer. He hadn't gotten very far when a shelf gave way. Dozens of petri dishes splintered on the floor.

"Crap! Oh, this will be fun. Remind me again why I'm doing this, Stark?"

"Charity, Carter, charity. What did you spill?"

"It doesn't look too bad. No body parts, anyway."

"Pics, Carter, I want pics. Use your camera phone."

"I can't reach it. Besides, there's not much to see. The little petri dishes all have the same design--a biohazard symbol and a big three."

"Don't move." Stark's voice changed completely. Jack froze.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Carter, if this is a prank, I swear I'll have you scrubbing every floor drain in the building with a toothbrush."

"It's no joke," he said carefully. "What's going on?"

"You're fine as long as your suit stays intact. There shouldn't be any class three biohazards in that fridge. I'm shutting off air flow to the rest of GD until we can get a decon team down there. Just don't step on anything sharp."

Great. Jack waited nervously until the team showed up. They entered wearing suits similar to his own, and proceeded to spray the entire room with something cold and blue. They bagged up the petri dishes, repeated the decontamination procedure, made him wait twenty minutes for the chemical to take effect, then told him he was free to go. The whole thing took over an hour and left him smelling of citrus and pine.

Stark met him as he exited. Jack braced himself for teasing, but Stark looked genuinely upset by the incident. "Sorry about that," he said. "Fargo's looking into how this happened. Your suit was intact, though, so you should be clean."

"Yeah, no worries, I'm fine. But doesn't this seem a bit odd to you?"

"That somebody put Class Three pathogens in Taggart's freezer? That's odd, all right. Whoever screwed up will end up regretting it, trust me."

"Sure, but that's not what I meant. The shelf just collapsed without me even touching it. That's two near misses in one day. Plus, admit it, you had me put on that suit so I'd look like an idiot. That's why Fargo and the crematorium staff kept giggling."

"Yeah," Stark admitted. "Nothing in that fridge should require anything more than disposable gloves."

"So I show up at the crematorium looking like an idiot in my full body suit. Nice one, Stark. But if you hadn't been pranking me, I'd be in bad shape right now. I think something weird is going on."

"Carter, don't be an idiot. The crash this morning had nothing to do with the damaged shelf or improper storage. You're just trying to dream up some scheme to investigate so you can get out of being at my disposal."

"It just seems strange," Carter said stubbornly. "The whole situation is improbable."

"No one even knows when the freezers get emptied or who will get stuck doing it. But you can rest assured that when I find out who put those class three specimens in it, I'll nail their balls to the wall. Now come on, we have work to do."

Carter sighed, rolled his eyes, and followed Stark to his next assignment.


	4. Chapter 4

Stark took Jack up to one of Global's labs. It was smaller than some, but full of the usual array of obscure electronics, of which any one piece probably cost more than Jack made in a year.

Fargo joined them, pushing a cart full of cables and other electronic gear.

"On your belly," Nathan said, smirking.

"Huh?"

"You'll be helping Fargo rewire the lab. We need a higher grade of insulation for the current I'll be pulling. The baseboards pull out to allow us to easily run cable behind the walls. Have at it."

Fargo looked caught between smirking and blushing. "Let me guess," Jack said, "You'd be stuck doing this if I wasn't here."

"Well, yes, but, um, my time is better spent supervising," Fargo said.

Jack sighed. "Okay, whatever, let's get started."

At least the floors were clean. Well, clean-ish. Global paid for above-average janitorial services, but even Global's high standard of cleanliness didn't extend to removing dust bunnies from behind heavy equipment.

Stark sat back in his chair, the picture of relaxation, his hands folded behind his head. Fighting back a blush, Jack got down and started stringing cable. Jack initially felt self-conscious crawling around, especially with Stark making a point of staring. But before long, Jack found himself caught up in the task at hand.

When he remembered he was being watched and snuck a peek at Stark, he saw that Stark, too, had gotten caught up in work. Stark was staring intently at one of his screens. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he screwed his eyes tightly shut, rubbed his temples, and let out a frustrated sigh.

Jack hastily looked away. Stark would be a bear if he knew someone caught him with his guard down for even a second. But he continued to sneak peeks. Now that he looked for it, he could see tension lines drawn around his eyes, and he could tell that Stark turned his whole body rather than his neck. He must have wrenched it in the accident.  
If it were anyone else, Jack would bring it up. He'd suggest that whoever it was go home, take some aspirin, and relax until they felt better. With Stark, he wasn't sure what to say. Both of them had a history of coming through for each other in times of crisis, but Stark liked to be in control.

Jack was still mulling the situation over when something went wrong. He plugged in an adapter, just like he'd been doing all morning, but this time current arced from the adapter to his palm. Hot pain shot through his hand. The current triggered muscle contractions. His hand clenched shut, and he couldn't let go.

He heard Stark swearing, and he felt something strike his arm. Later, he realized that Stark had shoved away the desk between him and the room, yanked a drawer free from the desk, then knocked his arm free of the current using the non-conducting wood desk drawer. If anyone had touched him, they'd have been caught in the current just as he was.

The pain mostly stopped, leaving him dazed and a little disoriented. Reflexively, he tried to sit up. Stark stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Stay down until the medics get here," Stark said.

"I'm fine," Jack said.

"Humor me. You just had a major electrical shock, you shouldn't stress your heart."

Jack swallowed nervously and lay still. He felt okay, except that his hand hurt, but Stark's words made him reluctant to push his luck.

"Now do you believe that something strange is going on?" he asked weakly. Stark wasn't listening, though.

"Fargo, what the hell happened? You know he doesn't have any background in electrical engineering. You were supposed to watch him!"

In fact, Jack had picked up a fair bit of electronics back when he was a teen.

"I was watching him!" Fargo protested. "That adapter malfunctioned. But it should have been good. I tested all the components before I used them!"

"Well, test them again!"

Stark stripped off his suit jacket and began to fold it. Jack watched, rather fascinated that someone could put so much angry energy into such a simple task. When he was finished, he lifted Jack's head and slipped the jacket under it.

"I really do feel fine," Jack pointed out.

"Wait for the medics," Stark said. Stark continued to pepper poor Fargo with questions and accusations until the medics arrived. They took Jack's vitals, and pronounced him fine except for the burns on his hand. Jack got up and followed them down to the infirmary for treatment.

When he finished, Stark met him at the door. Jack immediately noticed how stiffly he was moving.

"Come on," Stark said. "I'm driving you home."

"First tell me what you found out about the adapter," Jack said.

"The part was defective. Fargo insists he checked it. Normally I'd think he just misremembered or even lied, but he kept records of his results for inventory purposes. Fargo might be an idiot, but he's not one to bungle a simple test, or to fudge data. So I don't know what happened, except that the part failed between when Fargo tested it and when you put it to use an hour later."

"So you admit that it's odd."

"Yes, Carter, I admit that three brushes with death is odd even for you," Stark said dryly. "Now shut up, I'm taking you home so you can get some rest."

Jack sighed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Wasn't it just like Stark, he reflected, to condescend to him, boss him around, and try to look after him all at once. Still, he was more than ready to head home. It had been a long day, and his hand still throbbed. But he reminded himself that Stark was in pain, too. He could show a little extra patience with the guy, he decided.

"Why don't you get them to check out your neck first?" he asked. One of the nurses turned to listen in.

"My neck's fine."

The nurse already had a scanner in hand, so Carter explained, "He was in a car crash earlier today."

"We both were, and I didn't crash," Stark said.

"Yeah, yeah, you did a great job driving, now let them look at your neck."

Stark gave in to the inevitable. The nurse insisted on running a scan with a portable MRI. She was quick about it. Either Stark still got the red-carpet treatment despite no longer being the head of Global, or she didn't trust him to stay put for long.

"You're showing a bit of inflammation, but give it some rest, ice, and anti-inflammatories, and you'll be fine. I'm going to write you a prescription for some painkillers." She ran through potential side effects.

Jack could see he wasn't planning to fill it, but Jack had a prescription of his own, and he dragged Stark along. Then he let Stark drive him home, making only a token protest about leaving his jeep at Stark's place.

"You'll have to pick me up tomorrow," he pointed out.

"Not a problem. Get some rest, Carter. You look like crap."

"Gee, thanks," he said, but deep down he appreciated Stark's brusque brand of affection.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack skipped the prescription painkillers. He hated having a fuzzy head. Instead he relied on his usual beer, backed up with a couple of aspirin and some ice. Global's burn treatment was far beyond what the rest of the nation had to offer, so by morning he was actually feeling fairly decent.

He took a long, hot shower and ate a good breakfast of Sarah's scrambled eggs with fresh fruit. He'd have preferred bacon, but he wasn't up to arguing her down this morning. Then he settled in to watch the game until Stark showed up.

His doorbell rang at noon precisely.

"Dr. Stark is outside," Sarah said. Her voice dripped with disapproval.

"Sarah, I told you it wasn't Dr. Stark's fault that I got hurt yesterday."

"I should hope not, as the terms of the charity forbid assigning dangerous activities."

"Yeah, Sarah, say that like you mean it. And open the door, will you?"

Jack could see at once that Stark was feeling worse, not better. He took care to move his whole body when he turned toward the car. Jack held out his hand.

"Keys. Gimme."

"I told you yesterday--"

"That I'm here to do the things you don't want to do, not the things you do. Trust me, right now you don't want to drive."

For one second, Stark looked like he wanted to argue, then he sighed and said, "Fine."  
Jack took his place in the driver's seat. "Where to?"

"G.D."

"Seriously? On a Sunday? You already worked yesterday."

Stark started to shrug, then winced and didn't answer.

"Come on, take a day off, it won't kill you. Besides, you're missing the whole point of this charity deal."

"The point is to raise money for Tesla."

"Sure, but if that was all there is to it, the school could just pass a hat. The point is to motivate people to be generous by entertaining them. So far, you've only entertained yourself, Fargo, and two crematorium attendants. You should have me catering to your every whim in Cafe Diem where everyone can see."

"And you're actually trying to talk me into that?" Nathan gave him his patented what-a-moron look. Jack smiled easily.

"Nah, I'm just pointing out that you suck at tormenting people. Which I really would not have guessed, since you're normally so careful with people's feelings and all."

A flash of hurt crossed Stark's face, which he immediately schooled to blank impassivity.  
"Actually, you know what, it's a stupid system. I don't have time to babysit you anyway. You're off the hook. Forget today, I'll get the donation in the mail on Monday."

Jack winced. He'd only meant his comment for their usual teasing, but he must have hit a raw nerve. But this was Stark, and they didn't do sentiment. He decided to bluff it out.  
"No way, Stark, I can't have the whole town thinking I punked out just because I'm squeamish. If you want to keep me out of your freezers, you're just going to have to take some down time yourself. Come on, where to?"

"G.D.," Stark said dryly.

Jack rolled his eyes, but obediently drove to Global Dynamics. It worried him to see how carefully Stark moved when he got out of the car, though. He resolved to keep an eye on the guy.

"You'll have to entertain yourself," Stark said. "I'm not giving you any more Global work. You're too accident prone."

"So you admit that yesterday was downright freaky."

"You're the only freaky thing around here," Stark said, but he was smirking as he said it. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll go pick up some lunch. I'm guessing you didn't eat yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then I'll get myself lunch, and I'll get you a muffin."  
Jack ran into Fargo on the way out. Fargo's tie was askew, his shirt was soaking wet, and he looked near panic. None of this was unusual for Fargo, but a sense of duty made Jack ask, "Hey Faro, how's it going?"

"Awful!" Fargo said. "The handle on my favorite mug snapped right off when I picked it up. But that's not all! My desk keeps wobbling, my comics subscription got switched with somebody who ordered nothing but lawn and garden magazines, and I sort of won the lottery."

"Hang on Fargo, you won the lottery? Seriously? You're not making this up?"

"Yes, but it's not like I can collect on it! At least, not without moving out of Eureka. The town's supposed to be a secret. I can't risk having reporters show up and photograph me. I burned the ticket, but days like this make me wish I hadn't! Nothing has gone right ever since Dr. Levin made me switch offices with him!"

"You're sure you burned it?" Jack asked wistfully. "If you don't want it, I can find it a good home."

"I'm sure, sheriff. But I won it again today!"

"Hold on, Fargo. If you don't want to win, why did you buy another ticket?"

"I did want to win! I didn't want a million dollars, though. I wanted one of the little awards so I could go on vacation. Because trust me, I needed one even before my coffee cup broke!" Fargo was breathing heavily, his face flushed with indignation.

"Okay, okay, but doesn't this all seem strange to you? Fargo, come with me to talk to Dr. Stark."

Raw panic crossed his face. "But I didn't do anything!"

"Didn't say you did. Come on, it'll only take a second." He dragged Fargo back to Stark's office. Stark had his head down and was using both hands to massage the back of his neck. When he heard the door, he rapidly sat back up and glared at the two of them.

"What now?" he demanded.

"Fargo, tell him about the lotto tickets."

Fargo stumbled his way through the story. Stark sighed, and began a lecture on probability. As usual, Jack could only just barely follow the general concepts. For once, Stark took mercy and ended by putting the basic ideas in layman's terms. "Random events do not get distributed evenly," he said. "They cluster. Just because improbable events take place in a cluster doesn't require some special explanation. The most probable..." he trailed off and stared into space. Eventually he said, "Actually, this is an extreme enough run of luck that the most probable explanation does involve some extraneous influence."

"Hey Fargo," Jack said, "You told me all this started when Dr. Levin moved his office. Could she have something to do with all this?"

"She is working on randomization protocols," Fargo said.

"Yes, which generate random signals for cryptography," Stark said. "But all that does is generate an electrical signal. Although... I wonder if he's been collaborating with Dr. Monroe?"

"You mean Dr. Monroe of the neurolific dog obedience?" Jack asked.

"Neurological," Stark corrected.

"It still shouldn't affect macroscopic probabilities," Fargo said. "Unless he managed to amplify it somehow. I don't see why he would bother, though."

"Oh, maybe in order to win the lottery--twice?" Jack suggested.

"I doubt that either of them anticipated these effects," Stark said. "But modeling realistic behavior requires a powerful source of randomization.

Fargo said, "Dr. Monroe wanted to broadcast signals to her entire kennel full of artificial dogs so she could test training protocols more efficiently. I heard her talking about it yesterday."

The three of them looked at each other. "We'd better find one of them fast," Stark said. "So far we've been lucky. But if this thing can manipulate actual macroscopic probabilities, who knows what against-the-odds disaster we could stumble into."

The three of them raced out into the hall. Jack continued to pepper Stark with questions. "Why us? I get why Fargo, he was right next to Dr. Monroe. Maybe the probability thingy overlapped his office. But why was your car affected?"

"And why have the effects been so limited?" Fargo wondered.

"Hey! I've been bathed in biohazards, nearly driven off a bridge, and electrocuted. That's not limited! And how come I get all the disasters, but Fargo wins the lottery twice over?"

"When did you buy the tickets?" Stark asked.

"Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon," Fargo said.

"That's when we nearly went off the bridge! Hey, could we be linked? Like, every time something nasty happens to me, something good happens to you? Did anything special happen to you Sunday morning?"

"Not really," Fargo said, looking shifty.

"Fargo, come on! I could have died!"

"You didn't though," Fargo protested. "Maybe the effects aren't fatal."

"Fargo!"

"Okay, okay! My entry in... in a completely skill-based contest won first place. But I earned it!"

"What contest?" Stark asked curiously.

"It's not relevant."

"It could be. You can't eliminate data without cause."

Fargo scowled, but reluctantly admitted, "I entered a Sinister Hat photo contest. I was awarded the Most Menacing Profile category. I won a hundred dollar gift certificate to Havil's Hats."

"You? Most menacing? Okay, that definitely qualifies. And for that I got nearly electrocuted? We gotta put a stop to this!"

Dr. Monroe's office was open, but no one answered when Jack called out. "She's probably not in," Fargo said. "I'll look up her cell number."

Then something made a weak rustling noise. Jack found Dr. Monroe on the ground next to her desk, clutching her throat. He grabbed her, wrestled her into a sitting position, and gave her the Heimlich maneuver.

She coughed out a soggy lump of something, then gasped for breath. Once she was breathing better, Jack asked her what happened.

"The glass in my window broke yesterday morning, and I hadn't gotten around to replacing it. I was yawning, and a leaf blew in the window. Then something stung my hand, and I gasped because it startled me, and I inhaled the leaf." She blushed. "I know how crazy that sounds, but I swear I'm not making any of it up."

"We've had our share of crazy happenings ourselves," Jack said. "Dr. Monroe, could your probability thingy be making strange things happen?"

She insisted that it couldn't, but Jack caught the same shifty-eyed guilty look that he was used to seeing on Fargo. "Dr. Monroe, can you think of anything unusual, anything at all, relating to your work?" he pressed. "Bear in mind that you yourself nearly died today."

"I am missing two of the devices," she admitted. "I had attached several devices to various parts of my artificial poodle, but when I got home from the auction, two of them were missing. I just don't know what could have happened to them."

"That thing wasn't even real?" Jack demanded.

"Of course she's real! She's a genuine artificial poodle! I trained her using the same systems I use on biological dogs!"

Stark said, "I'm more interested in the fact that you misplaced multiple prototypes and never reported it."

"Could the loss itself count as an improbable occurrence?" Jack asked.

"Idiocy is never improbable," Stark said dryly.

"Yeah, yeah, but could it?"

"Maybe. And if they're disappearing in pairs, maybe there's some linkage effect. Probability is a strange thing. Did you know that theoretically, this entire room could become a vacuum at any moment, if the air molecules randomly strike each other in such a way that their energy states propel them out of the room? Or at any moment, any of us could die of a heart attack, if the electrical signals from our hearts randomly fluctuated in such a way as to trigger one?"

"Dr. Monroe," Jack said, "Please please tell me you have a way to deactivate these things remotely."

"Oh, sure, I just have to deactivate--"

Her laptop exploded. The remnants began to burn, emitting thick, pungent smoke. The sprinkler system cut in, and Jack hustled everyone out.

"Can they even do that?" Jack demanded.

"Lithium ion batteries are prone to overheating. It's not even that improbable."

"Okay, Dr. Monroe, where else can you deactivate it from? How about Fargo's office?"

"I don't want her touching my things," Fargo protested.

"Fargo!"

"She already exploded her own computer, I don't want her to mess mine up too!"

"And I don't want to spontaneously combust! Which, by the way, could happen to you as easily as to me. Both of us have already had both extra-good and extra-bad luck."

"Point taken," Fargo said.

They raced to Fargo's office. Dr. Monroe logged in, rapidly typed in a command, then said, "That should do it."

Jack's shirt buttons popped off.

"Yes, that's clearly done the trick," Stark said, irritated. "We need to find the devices and disable them manually."

"How big are they?" Jack asked.

"Point two millimeters in diameter. They have a tacky surface, so they could be stuck to anything."

"So it's like looking for a grain of sand. That's just great! Hey wait, do they contain any unusual materials?"

"Just standard electronics."

"Can we do one of those pulse thingies, you know, the kind people use to shut down cell phones?"

Dr. Monroe shook her head. "They're too well shielded."

Stark said, "Drench the place. Us included. They're probably stuck to Jack and Fargo's skin. They won't withstand being submerged."

"Yes, but I'll lose years of--"

Stark didn't wait for her to finish. He pulled the handle of the lab fire alarm. When the sprinklers kicked in, he directed Jack and Fargo to stand directly under them. Jack favored a soaking over spontaneous heart attack or random asphyxiation, so he cooperated.  
Once they were thoroughly drenched, Jack and Fargo retreated to the restroom to search for the devices. Jack found a tiny pebble-like device stuck to his elbow, and Fargo found one stuck to his left ear.

"They probably got lost in the first place because they were distorting probability," Fargo pointed out. "It's quite impressive, really."

"I'm just glad we all survived," Jack said. "Now if I could just stop dripping." He wrung out his clothing as best he could. Then Stark offered to drive him home.


	6. Chapter 6

They stopped by Cafe Diem. Jack asked Stark to stop because he claimed to be starving. "I never got lunch, with all the fuss," he said. He was actually hungry, but he was also worried about Stark. All the running around hadn't done the guy's neck any favors. He looked awfully pale, and moved like every step hurt. A lunch break might get him to slow down long enough to admit he belonged at home resting.

But Jack had forgotten that the whole town was waiting to find out what Stark would do to him all weekend. With Jack's clothes still being damp and his shirt missing buttons, the two of them drew stares and poorly muffled snickers.

Stark scowled. Jack hadn't thought he could look any more tense, but he pulled it off.

"Smile," Jack said in a low voice, "Or they'll think we spent the weekend trying to kill each other." Stark just glared at him.

Vincent showed up to take their order. "Are we having a good weekend?" he asked brightly.

Stark glowered. Jack gave him a friendly smile. "That's a complicated question," he said. "You can improve it with a cheeseburger and fries, though."

"Oh, Sheriff, I wish that just once you'd--"

"Burger and fries Vince, I know what I want. Maybe Stark will indulge you, though."

"Oatmeal," Stark said.

"For lunch?" Vincent protested. "I can make you--"

"Hey, Vince, not today, okay?" Jack said. "Just... just bring the food, all right? Actually, let's get it to do."

Vincent frowned, but retreated to leave them in peace.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked.

"My neck's a bit sore still, but it'll be fine."

Jack didn't argue. They sat quietly while Vincent worked on their order. Jack waited until they got the food, then held out his hand for Stark's keys. "You shouldn't be driving right now," he said.

"Neither should you."

"I think you got the worst of it today. Come on, Nathan."

Stark handed over the keys. He didn't protest the use of his first name, Jack noted. Jack tried the name out in his head: Nathan. It sounded good.

Jack drove him home. "Invite me in for a beer," he said.

"Carter--"

"Trust me on this."

"I'm just not feeling so hot right now."

"I know," Jack said, meeting his gaze. "And if you tell me you're going to that prescription and go lie down, I'll get out of your way. Otherwise, trust me."

"I hate using narcotics," Stark admitted.

"Cause it makes your head fuzzy. I'm a cop, I get it. But if you're not going to take your painkillers, I want to try something."

"What?"

"Inside."

Stark brought Jack a bottle of Porter's, but nothing for himself. Stark went for a hard-backed chair, and lowered himself into it carefully. Jack cracked open the beer but didn't drink.

"I've had my fair share of being banged around in the line of duty, and so I know exactly how much it sucks," Jack pointed out. "I can see what's happening."

"What?"

"You're tensing up against the pain, but muscle tension is just making everything worse. Let's get ice on it first, to take down the swelling. And eat something. Unless you're actually about to puke, it'll help to get something in your stomach."

Remarkably, Nathan didn't protest at being fussed over. He sat unprotesting while Jack got ice from his freezer, filled a ziplock bag, and positioned it on his neck. He didn't do more than pick at the oatmeal, though.

Jack had been in enough pain to make him nauseous, and he knew exactly how crappy it felt. He waited until Nathan pushed the oatmeal aside. Then he walked up behind him and lay his hands on Nathan's shoulders.

Nathan held stock still, but didn't say anything about stopping. Jack dug in, slowly but firmly. He could feel the tension. He slowly started working the tight muscles. When he was sure Nathan wasn't going to object, he said, "Let me know if anything I do makes the pain worse."

Nathan sat quietly while he worked. When he finally spoke, it was to say, "I'm sorry about this weekend. I never meant for all this to happen."

"It's not your fault," Jack said, surprised. "You can blame Dr. Levin, Dr. Monroe, and her shaggy poodle. I'm glad you were around to help figure it out, actually."

"Yes, but... this whole thing is stupid and tacky."

"You mean the parent auction? Yeah, kinda. A "parent" auction might be more politically correct than the old-style "bachelor" auctions, but I still felt like a piece of meat up there. Worse, I felt like the three-day old cut no one wanted. That's why you bid, wasn't it?"

"You have as much to offer as anyone else, and more than half of those idiots. If you didn't like it, why did you egg me on?"

"I guess I'm used to looking like an idiot in this town. If I'm going to play the role, I might as well embrace it."

Nathan snorted. "You're not an idiot, Jack. But even if you were, we should be above this. Half of the people here grew up misfits. We know what it's like to be teased, and not to fit in. We shouldn't be engaging in that same behavior ourselves, especially when raising our children."

Jack didn't miss the use of the word 'we.' He wondered just how much Nathan had been teased. Nathan had such a strong personality that it was hard to imagine him being bullied, but perhaps it hadn't always been that way. Jack pictured a bright, overly serious, socially clueless adolescent, full of the usual stew of teenage hormones with none of the adult Nathan's authority or perspective. He took a moment to frame his thoughts, digging his thumbs into tense muscles. Nathan let out an involuntary moan of relief.

"You're right," Jack finally said. "So make it stop. Not right away, I don't need credit for being the one who ruined this charity program. But next year when this comes up, you have enough influence to drop hints in the right places."

Nathan nodded, then winced.

"More ice now, and then you should lie down. And take tomorrow off for a change. The world won't collapse in your absence."

Nathan had his eyes closed, and didn't react. Just when Jack thought he wasn't going to respond, he said quietly, "I know. It's just... since Allie turned me down, it's just easier if I keep busy."

Jack swallowed hard. "Yeah, me too," he admitted. "You know... maybe we could distract each other."

"With car crashes and electroshock therapy?" Flippant words, but Nathan's voice held a wistful sort of hope. Instinct told Jack to keep it light.

"Hey, you gotta give it points for creativity. And you gotta admit we make a pretty good team. But actually, I was thinking dinner. Cafe Diem, two days from now. If nothing else, it'll mess with everyone's heads."

That provoked a dry chuckle. "Okay, sure, why not?" The words were casual, but his voice had a tentative tone that let Jack know he had more invested than he liked to let on.

"Great! Rest your neck, I'll see you soon."

"Jack... thanks. For the massage."

"Any time." Jack caught his gaze, gave him an overly giddy smile, then walked away feeling like the best sort of idiot. He loved this part; the dizzy plunge into starting something new.

###

Ten years later...

Jack had nothing against meteor showers. He admired the pretty lights as much as the next guy. But the real draw for him was getting Nathan away from work, out here on a chilly night. The cold air provided an excellent excuse to snuggle close.

"There!" Nathan pointed. An especially bright streak of light shot by almost too quickly to catch. Jack caught it out of the corner of his eye, but he was busy watching Nathan's face. He loved seeing Nathan light up with enthusiasm. Over the years, he'd become less guarded, less formal and closed off. He would always be a driven ambitious, person, but he'd softened.

Still, Nathan would be up half the night, while Jack dozed next to him. And come morning, Nathan would be first out of bed. Only one thing ever made the guy slow down.

"Do you remember how this all started?" Jack asked lazily.

Nathan snorted. "Don't remind me."

"Aw, it wasn't all bad."

"No, it wasn't, actually. I wasn't very happy back then. You were kind when you didn't have to be."

"And you looked out for me, even when you wouldn't admit you were doing it."

Jack stole a kiss. Nathan felt warm and vital in his arms. Then Nathan twisted away to point at the sky again. "Two of them!"

"Mmm... I have something better to look at."

He expected Nathan to brush him off, but Nathan smiled back. "Come to think of it, so do I."


End file.
